A Christmas Carol
by Deja Know I Been Lookin For Vu
Summary: Alas, Luke's status in life has gone from hero to zero. What might happen if a few familiar spirits attempt to help him get back on the right track? This is "A Christmas Carol," Star Wars style.
1. Saber One: Vader's Ghost

**Title:****A Christmas Carol****  
****Author:**** Deja Vu****  
****Summary:**** This is a **_**Star Wars**_** version of **_**A Christmas Carol**_**, with Luke in Scrooge's place. Parts are a bit awkward, as I have mixed in present-day language with Dickens language, trying to follow fairly closely the original story (which means some characters are out of character). I thought about substituting "Christmas" with "Life Day" but decided against it. This was originally called "A Christmas Quarrel."****  
****Rating:**** No language, not really any violence.****  
****Disclaimer:**** I don't own **_**Star Wars**_** or **_**A Christmas Carol**_**, but this story is mine. A fair amount of the wording in this story is based on **_**A Christmas Carol**_**, just FYI.****  
****Characters:**** Luke, Vader, Mara, Leia, Obi-Wan, Yoda, and others.****  
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****

**Saber One: Vader's Ghost:**

****

Darth Vader was dead to begin with.

There was no doubt whatsoever about that.

His body had been burned by his son, and his death rejoiced all over most of the galaxy.

Vader was as dead as a doornail, or at least something very much resembling a doornail.

I don't mean to say that I know what is so dead about a doornail. I might have been inclined to regard a coffin-nail as the deadest piece of metal in the trade. But the wisdom of our ancestors is the simile, and I shall not try to change it, for if I attempted it, the Galaxy would be done for. You will therefore permit me to repeat: Vader was as dead as a doornail.

Luke Skywalker knew he was dead! Of course he did. How could it be otherwise? Vader was his father, and Luke had burned his body in a funeral pyre. Luke was Vader's sole son, his sole remaining friend, and his sole surviving witness that he had turned from the Dark to the Light—but to what result? To die before his next birthday, his dead body afterwards engulfed in flames, so his son could live to have another.

This brings me back to the point I started from. There is no doubt that Vader was dead. This must be distinctly understood, or nothing wonderful will come of the story I am going to tell. If we were not perfectly convinced that Luke's parents were dead before we saw _The Empire Strikes Back_ for the first time, then it wouldn't have been remarkable when Vader claimed to be his father—since we would have already been wondering whether Luke's father really did exist.

Luke never forgot how Vader had died, turning from the Dark to the Light so that Luke might continue to serve the Light, but the lesson was now lost on him. He had finally had enough of saving the galaxy, and one might now even venture to call him mad. Though he was still of sound mind, his life had become a mixture of Light and Dark. If you asked a stranger where he thought Luke leaned, he would probably reply angrily that he was Dark. And well he should, as many were unhappy with the turn taken by what had once been one of the Republic's greatest heroes. If you put the same question to Luke's sister, she would say that he was still Light, but even she would have to admit that his Light was of a grayish hue. All Luke really cared about now was the Force and learning how to use it in all its forms.

Oh! But he was a sour man with all creatures now, a squeezing, wrenching, grasping, scraping, clutching young man! Hard and sharp as durasteel, which no ordinary steel had ever been able to compete with. The Darkness within him froze his 36-year old features, making his eyes look older than the stars themselves. It nipped his nose, hardened his eyes, stiffened his gait, made his lips thinner, and spoke out shrewdly in a cold voice. He carried his own low temperature always about with him; he iced his meditation room in the bantha-days, and he didn't thaw it one degree at Christmas.

External heat and cold had little influence on Luke. No warmth could be warm, nor could wintry weather chill him. No wind that blew was bitterer than he was, no falling snow more intent upon its purpose, no pelting rain less open to pleas. Foul weather didn't know where to have him now. The heaviest rain, and snow, and hail, and sleet, could boast of the advantage over him in only one respect. They often "came down" handsomely, and Luke never did. Not anymore.

No longer did people stop in the street to say to him, "Luke Skywalker! I never thought I would actually get to meet you!" and proceed to carry on a conversation and possibly even ask for proof of their encounter. No beggars implored him to give them a credit; no children asked him to show them a "magic" trick; no man, woman, or alien inquired what was the way to this or that place. Even the animals that helped impoverished blind citizens appeared to know him, and when they saw him coming on, they would tug their owners into different corridors or alleys and wag their multiple tails, as though they were saying, "No eye at all is better than an evil eye!"

But what did Luke care? It was the very thing he liked. To edge his way along the crowded paths of life, warning all human sympathy to keep its distance, was what was preferred by him.

Once upon a time—of all the good days in the year, on Christmas Eve—Luke was busy in his meditation room on Ier'tthh, a small planet in the Outer Rim consisting of deciduous forests and several small cities. It was cold, bleak, biting weather and foggy as well. Luke could hear humans and aliens in Laun'duhn's streets go wheezing up and down, beating their hands upon their chests, and stamping their feet to warm them. It was only three, but it was quite dark already: it had not been what a former resident of Tatooine would call even partially light all day, and lights were flaring in the windows of the city's buildings, like bright beacons for the lost. The fog came pouring in at every crack and was so dense that—although the street was one of the narrowest—the houses opposite were mere phantoms.

The door of Luke's meditation room was open that he might keep an eye on his apprentice, who—in a dismal room beyond—was glumly practicing levitation.

"Merry Christmas, brother!" cried a cheerful voice. It was the voice of Luke's sister, who had come in so quickly that her voice and not the Force was the first clue he had of her approach. When Luke had first moved to Ier'tthh to get away from his Academy, Leia had insisted on moving as well, claiming she would keep up her duties just as efficiently as on Coruscant. Her husband had tried to convince Luke that the move was a bad idea, but they had argued and were no longer speaking to each other. Han could never refuse Leia anything, however, so he had bought a nice house a ways out from the grubby city that Luke had decided to call home.

"Christmas," said Luke disapprovingly. Quietly, he muttered, "Hah!"

"Christmas is not just something to laugh at, Luke!" said his sister sternly. "...You used to love Christmas!"

"Hmph," Luke muttered. "Merry Christmas! What right do you have to be merry? What reason do you have to be merry? You're weak and unknowledgeable of the ways of the Force!"

"Come on, Luke," returned Leia, who tried to be optimistic and remain happy despite her brother's increasing sourness. "What right do you have to be unhappy? What _reason_ do you have to be unhappy? You're strong and knowledgeable of the ways of the Force...Yet somehow, you still remain unhappy."

Having no better answer ready on the spur of the moment, Luke said, "Christmas!" again, following it with a soft "Hah!"

"Don't be cross, Luke," Leia told him.

"What else can I be—" he replied bitterly, "—when I live in such a galaxy of fools as this one is?...Merry Christmas! What is Christmas to you but a time to spend money on presents that shall soon be forgotten. Needless time spent shopping when you could be learning more about the Force and how it affects our entire existence. If I could work my will," Luke said in indignation, "—every idiot who goes about with 'Merry Christmas' on their lips should be thrown out of an airlock with a stake of holly embedded in their heart!"

"Brother!" pleaded Leia.

"Sister!" returned Luke sternly, "—you keep Christmas in your own way, and let me keep it in mine."

"Keep it!?" Leia repeated. "But you don't keep it, Luke!"

"Then let me leave it alone!"

"Christmas is a good time, a kind, forgiving, charitable, pleasant time...It is the only time when humans and aliens alike open their closed hearts freely to each other. I believe Christmas has done me good, and will do me good, and I say, gods bless it!"

The apprentice in the next room involuntarily applauded and then—with a sheepish expression—pretended to continue meditating.

"Another sound out of you," Luke barked, "—and you'll lose your position. I don't have to keep you on as my student...." He turned to his sister. "You're quite a powerful speaker, Leia. It's no wonder you were the youngest human ever elected to the Imperial Senate."

"Don't be angry, Luke. Please, come and eat with us tomorrow!"

"Why did you ever get married?" Luke asked, anger flaring up in his eyes as he thought of Han Solo. It had not taken him long to forget the years of friendship he had once had with her husband.

Hurt by the look in her brother's eyes, Leia said softly, "Because I fell in love."

"Because you fell in love!" Luke growled, as if that were the only thing more ridiculous than a merry Christmas. "Good day!"

"Regardless of what you think, Luke, I will keep my love for Christmas for all eternity. So, Merry Christmas, brother."

"Good day!" Luke reiterated.

"And a Happy New Year!"

"Good day!"

Leia left the room silently, offering a happy greeting to the apprentice, who returned it.

Leia, in letting herself out, let two others in. One was a female native, and the other was a male human. They held datacards in their hands, and they both gave the equivalent of a smile to Luke.

"Jedi Master Skywalker," the human bowed. Luke merely grunted something incoherent and continued to experiment with the Force puzzle that he had concocted that very day. "At this festive season, Master Skywalker, it's desirable that we should make some slight provision for the poor and destitute, who suffer greatly at the present time. Many are in want of necessities and common comforts—"

"Aren't there orphanages and shelters?" Luke asked. He had no desire to waste his valuable time talking with these two.

"There are plenty of those, sir, but they are—"

Luke cut in sharply, "The shelters and orphanages this planet has can provide comforts and necessities easily. There's no reason you should be bothering me about it."

The native spoke, "A few of us are trying to raise a fund to buy the poor food, drink, clothing, proper housing...We choose this time of year because Christmas is a time when all should be generous and happy and willing to help others who are not as fortunate as they...So, how many credits shall I put you down for?"

"None," Luke replied.

"Ah," the female said with a smile. "So you wish to be anonymous?"

"I wish to be left alone," Luke insisted. "I don't enjoy myself at Christmas, and I see no reason to make idle creatures merry. I help support the orphanages and shelters through taxes. Space knows they cost enough. Those who are badly off should go those places."

"But not everyone _can_ go there, and many would rather die!" the man exclaimed.

"If they would rather die, then so be it. The galaxy's full of enough lunatics as it is. I should know," he snorted, "my brother-in-law is their supreme ruler. Good afternoon!"

Seeing that it would useless to continue to try to pry money from the stingy Jedi, the two left, muttering about how the rumors of the great Luke Skywalker's descent into something far less than great were true.

Luke then proceeded to meditate, but he was soon interrupted by someone singing a jolly Christmas tune outside.

He stood up and strode over to the door, opening it and grabbing the hapless individual at his doorstep by the throat.

"There will be no singing here," he demanded in a cold voice.

After being released from the choke-hold, the caroler fled in terror into the frigid, fog-filled night.

****

Eventually it was time to turn in, and Luke walked over to his apprentice and stated, "You want all day tomorrow off to spend with your family, I suppose."

"Yes, Master Skywalker."

"Hmm," Luke grunted. "Well, then you will have to be here early the next morning so we can catch up on your training."

His student promised that he would be, and he walked out after grabbing his lightsaber and other belongings.

The Jedi ate his melancholy dinner in his usual melancholy way, afterwards going straight to bed.

The room that he called his was gloomy and dismal, for he had never seen a point in decorating something that he would seldom be in while awake.

After he changed, he gave his familiar lightsaber a light pat.

Now, there was nothing unusual about his lightsaber. His was as lightsaberish as most lightsabers tend to be. He'd seen it almost every day since he'd built it, and he had little imagination left.

In addition, he rarely thought of his father anymore. After all, the man was dead, why should he do so?

But nevertheless, despite this, he saw not his lightsaber there but a miniature version of Vader's mask.

Vader's mask. It was just the way he remembered it, staring upward at him like a ferocious type of insect. It had a strange blue-black light about it, and he slowly withdrew his hand from it with wide eyes.

But as he stared at this phenomenon, it became a lightsaber again.

To say that he was not frightened would be untrue. But he touched the saber again, and it showed no signs of turning back into a helmet. So he merely shrugged it off to the stress of seeing his sister again.

Still, unable to help himself, he did look around the room and whisper reluctantly, "Father, is that you?"

When no reply came, he nodded, satisfied. Nevertheless, he walked slowly throughout the small house to make sure that all was as it should be.

There was no one under his small table or behind his couch. No one under the bed; no one in the closet. No one anywhere.

After this observation, he decided not to go straight to bed after all. Instead, he went in and sat down on the couch, a datacard about ancient Jedi traditions in his hand.

But something soon called his attention, and he gave a brief glance to his surroundings, spying a belled Christmas wreath hanging on the wall.

He muttered something about his sister's meddling and watched with great astonishment as the bells began to swing.

At first, the bells made scarcely a sound, but before long, they rang out loudly and ominously.

This may have lasted half a minute, or perhaps even a whole minute. But to Luke, it seemed like an hour. Then the bells ceased as they had begun. Together.

They were succeeded by an echoing noise that sounded vaguely familiar to him.

The door slid up with a hiss, but Luke saw no figure in its frame.

"This is a dream," he said softly to himself. "It's not real."

But the Jedi's face paled when a dark figure slowly glided into the room.

He'd seen his father as a ghost before. But that was as Anakin Skywalker—he had not had on the horrendous armor that the monster moving in front of his eyes was wearing.

It was the same suit. The same terrifying mask, the same blinking red lights in the square on his chest, the same armor, the same boots...Vader's body was even more transparent than the blue-tinged ghosts he'd seen before, and Luke, looking through his mid-section, could see the wall behind him.

During his youth he'd often heard it said that Vader had no heart, but he'd never believed it until now.

No, he didn't even believe it now. Vader did have a heart as Anakin Skywalker....But it wasn't Anakin Skywalker standing before him now.

The monster in front of him was encased in armor...and had countless chains wrapped about him.

"What do you want?" Luke stammered.

"Quite a bit, Son." It was Vader's voice; there was no doubt about that. His breathing apparatus still echoed as ominously and rhythmically as ever.

"Why are you here? You're supposed to be dead."

"Every man is required to walk among his fellows and travel far and wide. And if that spirit doesn't go forth in life....Then it is condemned to do so after death. The spirit is then doomed to wander through the galaxy and witness what it can no longer share—but what it might have shared in life." Vader lowered his head.

"Why are you in chains?" Luke asked. He didn't like this one bit. He had seen his father as a ghost before, but he had not been in the suit of armor. _Why_ was he wearing it now?

"I am wearing the chains that I forged in life," his father replied. "I made it link by link with every man, woman, and child I killed. I made it with my own free will. Do you not know of the weight and length of the strong chain that you bear yourself? Yours is becoming just as heavy and long as mine through your inaction."

"Father..." Luke was at a loss. He hadn't done as many horrible things as his father had, surely. Why would he have to bear a chain after his death? He pleaded, "Can't you try to comfort me?"

"I have no comfort to give, my son," Vader answered. "Why did I not go out among the people to help? Why did I go astray?...But I am speaking too much. My time here is almost done. I came here tonight to warn you that you may hope to escape my fate...But you shall be haunted by three spirits."

"That's my hope?" Luke was incredulous. "I've already seen more spirits in my thirty-six years than most Wookiees have in their entire lifetimes!"

"It is your only hope."

"Please, father! I've had enough of spirits! Why can't everyone just leave me be?"

Ignoring him, Vader continued, "Without their visits, you can't hope to avoid the path that I tread. Expect the first visit tomorrow...when the bells begin to ring at one."

"Can't I see them all at once and get it done with quicker?"

"Expect the second spirit on the next night at the same time. The third will appear on the next night when the bells ring at 2400. Look to see me no more, and remember what I have told you."

After saying those words, the spirit stared at him once more and then dissolved into thin air.

After looking around, Luke shook his head to clear it. Blinking, he stumbled his way into his room and then into bed.

He was exhausted and fell asleep at once.


	2. Saber Two: The First Spirit

**Saber Two: The First Spirit**

****

When Luke woke up, he remained frozen in his bed and stared straight up at the ceiling, trying to focus on the faint traces of what he thought was his dream.

He glanced over at his chrono and was shocked to find that it read 2400...But it had been past 2000 when he went to bed! The clock had to be wrong. He couldn't have slept through a whole day!

When he went to sleep he must have imagined the time...Or so he told himself.

He shook his head in puzzlement, and after a quick peek out the window to make sure that it was indeed dark outside, he returned to bed, closed his eyes, and tried to go back to sleep. But sleep would not come upon him, so he reluctantly opened his eyes and watched as the minutes clicked slowly by. The time inevitably turned to the dreaded hour, and as soon as it did so, the bells on the wreath started chiming loudly and persistently, and strange multi-colored lights flashed angrily in the room.

Suddenly, a very familiar ghostly figure emerged from nowhere.

The spirit held a branch of dark green holly in his hands, and his appearance sparkled in various colors, the majority of which were white, red, and green. It was a very interesting effect, and it might have been humorous or jolly-appearing on other ghosts, but it wasn't so with him.

"So you're the one Vader said was coming," Luke stated, a hint of a smile on his face.

"I am," Obi-Wan Kenobi said quietly and gently. He held his head high. "I am the Ghost of Christmas Past."

"I thought you were a deceased Jedi Master," Luke smirked, cruelty starting to glimmer in his eyes.

Ben merely gave him a calm stare. "I am the Ghost of your past."

"Why are you here? I thought you said you would never be able to return."

"I'm here for your welfare," the spirit replied.

Luke raised an eyebrow but didn't comment.

"Rise. Come and walk with me."

Reluctantly, Luke got out of his bed; then he looked down at himself and then up. "I'm not properly dressed."

"It will not matter."

Kenobi went over to Luke's window. Luke followed with some misgivings and looked out. They were several stories up from the ground. "That's okay. Really. I'm not up for levitation right now."

"Grab my hand," Obi-Wan ordered patiently. "You shall see."

Sighing with reluctance, Luke did as he was told. Without warning, the two passed through the wall as if it were fog, and Luke found himself with his deceased mentor in the middle of a desert that he knew very well.

Kenobi smiled. "You remember this place?"

"How could I forget it?" Luke returned.

They were standing in front of the homestead that Luke used to call his home—at least, what he had called his home before the Imperials had...Luke felt his eyes begin to tear up, and he quickly blinked the moisture away. He was past the point of tears. Tears made one weak, and the Force had no pity for the weak.

Ben led Luke through the walls and into the kitchen, where a much younger Luke and his Aunt Beru were sitting at the table across from Uncle Owen.

"That's me!" Luke exclaimed. A second later, he looked a little abashed at his outburst. Still, he ventured, "Hello?" and waved his hand in front of his younger self.

Ben stilled his hand. "They are but shadows of the things that have been. They have no consciousness of us."

Luke frowned, but he accepted the explanation and began listening to the conversation.

Uncle Owen was furious with the eight year-old Luke. "—and you never do your chores! How is a lazy boy like you ever going to make his place in the world?"

"But Uncle Owen, I was—"

"Work comes before play," Owen growled.

Beru touched her husband's arm and gave him a pleading gaze. Mumbling obscenities angrily, Owen Lars stormed outside.

"Don't mind him, Luke." Beru stood up. "Stay right here, I'll be right back."

She left, coming back shortly with a package in her hand. "Here's an early Christmas present for you."

His eyes wide with excitement, young Luke snatched the gift from her hands and tore into it. When the paper and ribbons had been discarded on the floor, Luke stared wide-eyed at the object in his hands. "It's the Skyhopper model that I wanted!" His face glowed and then dimmed abruptly as a realization struck him. "But Uncle Owen said it was stupid to spend so much money on a pointless toy..."

"It's your present. Not his," Beru smiled gently at him.

****

Luke watched his younger self grin thankfully and hug his aunt and then run around the kitchen making engine noises while "flying" his new Skyhopper toy.

Ben turned to him. "It is amazing that one simple gift could bring so much joy into one life. Sometimes, a small token of appreciation can mean the world to someone."

Luke nodded. It could. He remembered that day...He remembered it well.

"Perhaps you remember...this day?" The surroundings blurred as they went forward a few years in time. But this time, Luke was not merely a spectator; this time, he could feel what his ten-year old self was feeling in the past.

****

Young Luke was frightened. He had been out exploring Beggar's Canyon when a sandstorm had started to brew. He was supposed to be doing his chores, but he had decided to take a little break and was now regretting his decision. When the sand had started swirling around him as a forewarning of what was to come, he had ducked into a small cave and tucked his body into a ball to protect his face from the biting sand.

But the wind made terrible howling noises, and Luke wanted nothing more than to be home doing the very chores that he had decided to neglect.

He closed his eyes and tried to plug his ears to drown out the loud screaming of the wind. When he felt something solid touch him, he nearly shouted in alarm, but when he glanced up he saw merely a robed figure.

Come with me, a kind voice said inside his head. I shall not hurt you.

More than willing to oblige, Luke allowed himself to be covered in the man's robe and somehow be led through the angry sandstorm to the safety of the Lars homestead. Luke had never been able to figure out how the man had ushered him through the violent storm unscathed, but somehow he had managed to do so.

When Luke was finally at the homestead, the man guided him down the steps and to the very room where Luke's aunt and uncle were waiting. The man shut the door quickly to keep out the sand after they entered.

Aunt Beru jumped up from her seat immediately to hug Luke and thank the man profusely. Luke turned and saw that the man's hood had slid back to reveal....

The wizard!

He gasped and stuttered, "T-thanks." He was really thankful!...And boy what a story this would make!

But Uncle Owen hadn't shared his feelings. After a moment of steaming silence, he started yelling words that Luke didn't understand, glaring at the wizard and ordering him to leave the house. Ben Kenobi left without giving Owen further trouble, but Luke stared sadly after him. He'd been saved by the man, and all his uncle cared about was that the man he hated more than anything—why, Luke didn't know—was in his home?

****

The image slowly faded away, and Ben spoke. "See how one person can make or break the state of a person's emotions?"

Luke focused his gaze on the ground. "Owen could be...so cruel."

"You're turning out like him in that way," Obi-Wan told him seriously.

Luke hung his head, for he knew he was indeed following in his uncle's footsteps—but he was even worse. At least with Owen, there had always been an undercurrent of love beneath the anger.

Ben continued, "But he just wanted to protect you and his wife from the kind of life that your father and I led...What are you protecting?"

Luke didn't answer. But Ben knew. "My time is growing short," the spirit said gently. "There is one more thing I wish to show you."

****

A sad woman met Luke's eyes with her own sorrow-filled ones.

"I no longer mean anything to you. Something else has taken my place, and if it can comfort you better than I can, then we have no reason to continue like this, farmboy."

"_What_ has taken your place?" Luke inquired, wanting to deny it all.

"An energy field that consumes your life."

"But the Force can give us answers to everything! It can provide us with solutions to our problems!"

"You fear the world too much, Skywalker," Mara said quietly. "All of your hopes have merged into one: the hope for more knowledge about the Force. The Force shouldn't take over your entire life."

"So what if I want to learn more about the Force? I still love you," Luke almost pleaded.

Mara shook her head. "No."

"You think I don't?" He was hurt.

"We have grown apart. When we fell in love, you were another man."

"I was a boy," he pointed out impatiently.

"Both of us know that you are no longer the wonderful human that you once were," the ex-Emperor's Hand said softly. "Once, we would have been perfect together...But now, we are merely two halves of a different whole. The love is gone now. I wish it weren't, but it is. And I have no choice now but to go."

And go, she did.

****

"Ben!" Luke begged, tearing his eyes away from the sight that had just torn open what he had thought was a healed wound. "Show me no more. Take me home! Do you take some crude pleasure in torturing me?"

Obi-Wan gazed at him with a blank expression and waved his hand in front of him slowly. With a bright flash of light, Skywalker was back in his bed, shaking with emotions that he wasn't ready to face. He was suddenly overcome by an extreme feeling of drowsiness, and he quickly sank into a deep sleep.


	3. Saber Three: The Second Spirit

**Saber Three: The Second Spirit**

****

For very little reason other than a subconscious tingling, Luke woke up just in time to hear the beginning of the bells' ominous ringing. He sat up slowly in bed, his eyes flicking around the room in preparation. But no spirit appeared in front of him like his former teacher and father had. However, a ghostly light did slowly come, like a slow-moving mist or fog, into the room. He could reach no other conclusion than that the ghost was the source of it.

Wearily, he got out of bed and stood in front of the door, yawning and stretching. As his hand moved to touch the button to open the door, he heard a familiar voice in his head tell him to enter, and he complied. He walked through the hall and was met with an unusual sight.

It was his living room; there was no doubt about that. But it had undergone quite a transformation.

The halls and ceiling were covered with dark holly, mistletoe, and ivy as well as gleaming red berries that were scattered throughout. Heaped upon the floor was food of all types, though the majority of the sources of food were strange plants and animals that were native to the planet...

Dagobah.

On top of it all, looking as contented as a mynock chewing on an X-wing, sat Yoda, a brown bowl of something in his left hand and his other small fist clenching some type of dead beast's leg.

"In, must you come!" Yoda gestured. Luke did so, and the little green alien smiled. "The Ghost of Christmas Present am I!...And present of yours be..." he held up the bowl, "—swamp muck!" Chuckling, he flung it at Luke, who somehow managed to catch it.

Luke stared down at the unappetizing mixture. "Uh, that's okay."

"Ready are you, hmm?" Yoda inquired.

Luke nodded. "As ready as I'll ever be."

"My robe, you must touch," the little green alien instructed, looking as if he knew the funniest joke in the galaxy but wasn't going to tell it to Luke.

Luke followed Yoda's instructions, and soon they were flying swiftly through the city. They stopped at a humble home where Luke's apprentice lived with his family.

"This is Kam's house!" Luke exclaimed as the realization struck him. "And there's Tionne..."

Tionne, Kam's wife, was stirring a pot on the stove. Two small children, a boy and a girl, came tearing in and screaming about the nice smells. Giggling, the two chased each other around the table until they got tired and fell into a heap on the floor.

"Where are your father and your brother Little Lucas?"

****

Luke frowned upon hearing that name and looked to Yoda for an explanation. "Little Lucas?"

"Admires you, Kam does. At least used to, he did..." Yoda looked a bit sad.

****

Shrugging, the two children started a wrestling match, and moments later Little Lucas and Kam both burst in, singing a jolly Christmas song. Little Lucas was up on Kam's shoulders. He was a frail boy, and it looked as if a disease were eating at him from the outside in. But he was belting the song out as best as he could, and everyone smiled when they heard his tiny voice singing so merrily.

"And how was Little Lucas today?" Tionne asked warmly.

"As good as Corusca gems—and better!" Kam took the weak boy off his shoulder and helped him move to the table.

As the child stumbled, the two adults exchanged a look of helplessness.

***

"What is it?" Luke turned to Yoda. There was a feeling of dread in his stomach.

"The Force, Little Lucas can use not, and uncurable by medicinal purposes his disease is. Too weak in the Force to heal him, Kam is," Yoda answered solemnly.

"Why didn't he ever say anything to me about it?"

"Care, you would not," Yoda replied curtly, turning to the scene before them dismissively.

****

The Solusars were all seated at the table, steaming plates of food before them. Kam served his family first and himself last. Once everyone had food, he proposed, "A merry Christmas to us all, and gods bless us!"

Little Lucas was too busy smiling at everyone to echo him like everyone else, but he promptly said by himself, "Gods bless us everyone!"

Kam brought his loving eyes to meet Little Lucas' face, and he put his hand on the boy's. In that touch, it was evident that he loved the boy more than life itself...and that he dreaded the thought that the boy's disease might soon remove him from the world.

****

"Yoda, tell me if Little Lucas will live," Luke said with an intense quietness, almost afraid to know the answer.

"A vacant seat, see I," Yoda provided shortly. "If unaltered these shadows remain, die the child shall."

"No!" Luke said fiercely. "Yoda, no! Say that he will live!"

"If unaltered these shadows remain, die the child shall," Yoda repeated. "If they would rather die, then so be it—the galaxy's full of enough lunatics as it is," he said, throwing Luke's words back at him.

Luke lowered his head sadly. How could he have been so heartless?

"Somewhere else, have we to go. Come."

Quietly, Luke touched the short spirit's robe, and soon enough they arrived at what he quickly realized was his sister's house.

Han, Leia, Chewie, Lando, Jacen, Jaina, Anakin, Threepio, and Artoo were all in the living room, and they were (with the exception of Threepio who was banned from participation since he always complained that it wasn't realistic) playing a game called "Yes and No." The person who was "it" had to think of something, and the others had to find out what by asking yes or no questions that the person who was "it" answered. The main rule was that participants could not use the Force.

It was Han's turn now, and after a minute of thought, his face brightened mischievously. He grinned and told them to start asking questions.

"Is it a thing?" Anakin asked.

Han shook his head, "Nope."

"An animal?" Lando queried.

"Yes," Han confirmed.

"A nice animal?"

"He—" Han started, but after a warning look from Leia, changed his answer to something more family appropriate, "—no way."

"Is it a bantha?"

"Nope."

"A dewback?"

"Uh uh."

More questions were asked, and it was found out that it was a live, disagreeable, savage animal that was on the planet and never killed in a market.

At most of the questions, Han either burst into a fit of laughter or had to think long and hard about whether to answer yes or no.

Even Luke asked his own questions, though they couldn't hear him and Yoda gave him a strange look every time he did so.

Finally, Lando exclaimed, "Han, you ol' scoundrel! Pretty nifty how you managed to mislead us, but I know who it is!"

"Who?!" Jacen and Jaina cried out.

"It's Luke!"

And it certainly was. Most admired the way it was done, but they were all slightly unhappy about it since Luke had, after all, been their good friend before his drastic transformation.

"Well, though it may not have been directly, Luke has given us quite a laugh tonight, so a Merry Christmas to him!" Leia smiled reluctantly. "He wouldn't take it from me, but I give it to him nonetheless!"

****

That his sister still loved him despite the monstrosity of his ways filled Luke's heart with joy as easily as a helium tank fills up a balloon. But before he could speak to Yoda, the air became hazy, and he found himself in a clearing that appeared to be on Ier'tthh.

"Leave you, I must," Yoda said before disappearing into the air like smoke.

With no apparent source, the sound of bells filled the air. When they stopped, Luke, remembering Vader's prediction, raised his eyes and beheld a solemn ghost, robed and hooded, come toward him, like a mist along the ground.


	4. Saber Four: The Final Spirit

**Saber Four: The Final Spirit**

****

Silently, slowly, and gravely, the phantom approached him. When it came within a few feet of him, Luke found himself bent upon his knee. The very air through which this spirit moved seemed to scatter gloom and mystery.

It was shrouded in a deep black garment that concealed its head and face, leaving nothing visible except for its hunched frame and one outstretched, wrinkled hand. It appeared to be very similar to...

The dead Emperor? Luke's eyes widened in horror. "Palpatine?"

But the spirit said nothing.

"Are you the ghost of Christmas Future?" Luke asked.

Slowly, ominously, and with a strange anger, the spirit picked up a stick and wrote on the ground: It's "Christmas Yet To Come," idiot.

"Ah. So, you're going to show me shadows of the things that haven't happened—but _will_ happen?"

The spirit nodded and traced in the dirt. Surprisingly correct. Idiot.

Luke narrowed his eyes, but the air of fear that seemed to surround this ghost replaced his anger.

The ghost started moving, and Luke followed. They became airborne, and the ghost stopped beside a small group of men, pointing to them with a gnarled hand.

Realizing what was desired, Luke reluctantly went beside them and listened to their conversation.

"No," said a fat human with several chins. "I don't know anythin' 'bout it 'cept that 'e is dead."

[When did he die?] a Rodian asked.

"Last night, I b'lieve."

"What was the matter with him?"

"No one knows. Died in his sleep or some such."

"Is he having a funeral? Or are they just planning on burning his body? Or maybe they're throwing it out into space for the black holes....Of course, they'd probably just spit 'im back up!" chortled a Tloyah, waving its many arms about.

"I'd come if they'd provide a lunch!" the fat man stated jovially.

"Yeah, I'd have to be fed as well!" a furry Minoatt agreed.

After a few more words were exchanged, the group broke apart and Luke looked toward the spirit for an explanation.

But no answers or scribbles in the dirt awaited him. The phantom merely moved on, bringing him to Kam's house.

****

Everyone was quiet in the Solusar household, and an air of death pervaded the home.

The little girl watched the small boy as he tried to read aloud, "The pittin—" he stopped, unable to go on.

Tionne was looking at a datacard, but she finally set it down. "It hurts my eyes to squint at the thing, and I wouldn't show weak eyes to your father when he comes home for all the world...He should be home soon."

"He walks slower now, ever since—" The little girl cut off.

There was a brief period of silence until Tionne broke it. "He has walked—" she cleared her throat, "he has walked very fast with Little Lucas on his shoulders before."

"Yes," the two little children seconded.

"He was very light to carry, and it was no tro—" Tionne cut off when she saw her husband come in.

"Poor Little Lucas, gods rest his soul. I will forever remember his joyous spirit," Kam proclaimed weakly, trying to put on a brave face. But he was downhearted, and his family immediately tried to cheer him up.

****

Saddened, Luke turned to the spirit. "Poor Little Lucas...Is this what is to happen to him?"

The spirit didn't say or do anything.

After a moment of expectant silence, Luke looked at him. "Something tells me that we are about to leave...Tell me, who was the man that died?"

The Ghost of Christmas Yet To Come stared at him for a moment before beginning to walk away.

Luke followed and abruptly found himself in a graveyard.

Tombstones were scattered all about. Some had statues that guarded the body beneath its stone, and some were plain and listed only names and dates.

The spirit stood among the graves, pointing to one with elaborate statues on the top of it.

"Before I read it, tell me one thing. Are these things that will happen...or things that might happen?"

The ghost continued pointing, saying nothing.

"If men change their ways, will their ends change? Please, tell me before you show me that grave!"

The spirit still did not move.

Slowly, as if pulled by some unknown force, Luke crept to the tombstone and ignored the writing at the top and went straight to the name.

**LUKE SKYWALKER.**

"I am the one that died?" Luke cried out.

The wrinkled finger pointed from the grave to him and back again.

"No! No!"

The finger no longer moved. It just continued pointing.

"Please!" Luke clutched the spirit's robe. "I'm not that man that I was! And I won't be the man that I was when this was supposed to happen! Why show me this if I'm past all hope?!"

For the first time, the hand appeared to shake.

"Have pity on me! Assure me that I may change what has happened here by altering my life!"

Again, the hand trembled.

"I will honor Christmas in my heart and try to keep it through all of the year! I will not shut out the lessons that I have been taught! Oh, tell me that I can wipe away the writing that is on this stone!"

In his agony, he caught the gnarled hand. It sought to free itself, but he continued to hang to it tightly. Finally, he felt the Force pry himself from the spirit.

Then he fell into blackness.


	5. Saber Five: The End of It All

**Saber Five: The End of It All**

****

When things finally started coming back into focus, Luke shot upright. He quickly found that he was in bed.

In his own bed!

The room was his own! The bed was his own!

...But best of all, the time before him was his own to make amends in!

"Oh, father! Thank you! Thank you, Yoda! Thank you, Ben! Thanks, Palpatine, you old softie! I always knew you just pretended to be evil!" Luke laughed, bouncing around the room like an excited five-year old on...well, Christmas Day.

"I don't know what to do! I feel as light as a feather and as happy as a schoolgirl who's just gotten her first kiss! Merry Christmas to everyone!"

Joyously, he scampered about the house. Suddenly, he paused. "What day is this? How long have I been among that group of old Force-users?" He chuckled. "I don't know anything. I'm as ignorant as a baby! Well, no mind! I don't care! I'd rather be a baby than a crabby old Force-user any day! Whoopee!"

He rushed to the window and pushed aside the curtains. In poured heavenly, golden sunlight!

Luke opened it and leaned out in excitement. He called out to a mere speck of a boy down below him in the street, "What's today?!"

"Huh?" the boy gaped.

"What day is this?!"

"Today is Christmas!" the boy shouted up happily.

"Christmas Day?" Luke said to himself. "I haven't missed it! They did it all in one night! Of course they did..." He called out to the boy again, "Hey!"

"What?"

"Do you know that nice meat shop in the next street around the corner?"

The lad smiled. "I should hope I did!"

"An intelligent, remarkable boy!" Luke exclaimed gleefully. "Do you know if they've sold the prize Gallabird that was hanging up there? Not the little one...the big one?"

"The one as big as me?"

"Yes! That's the one!"

"It's hanging there now," the boy answered.

"Go and buy it!" Luke instructed.

"What?!"

"I'm serious! Go and buy it and tell them to bring it here so I can tell them where to take it. Come back with the man and the bird, and I'll give you a few credits. Come back with him in less than five minutes, and I'll give you a few handfuls!"

The boy was off in a flash, and one could practically see the dust that his departure left behind disturbed in the air! He clearly was excited at the thought of getting a handsome sum for such an easy job.

"I'll send it to Kam and his family!" Luke whispered to himself. "He won't know who sent it! Why, it's twice the size of Little Lucas!"

He went down a few stories and outside, and soon enough the boy and the man with the bird came around the corner.

And what a Gallabird it was! There was no way the Gallabird could have ever stood upon its legs in life, for it must have been so heavy that its legs would have snapped in two!

"It's impossible to carry that very far!" Luke noted cheerfully. "Let's get you a turbocar....Heh heh, that rhymed!" And he hailed someone and paid the bird-man, the boy, and the cabbie as his blue eyes twinkled merrily.

Luke gave directions to the cabbie and the Gallabird-man, and then he went inside his home and put on some nicer clothes.

He went out into the street and looked so irresistibly pleasant that several people wished him a good morning, and he returned their greeting in kind.

He had not gone very far before he spied the very man that had asked him if he wished to contribute to charity.

Luke rushed up to him. "I hope you succeeded yesterday. It was very kind of you to go out of your way to help the poor. A Merry Christmas to you!"

"Master Skywalker?" the man asked in astonishment.

"That's me! However, I prefer being called Luke. 'Master Skywalker' sounds so formal...Please, forgive me for my manners yesterday...I fear they were rather lacking. And I would like to contribute, ohhh—" Luke leaned and whispered a large sum in the man's ear, and the man's eyes bulged.

"Are you serious?!"

"As serious as the day is merry!" Luke replied. "And not a credit less!"

"Why, t-t-thank you," the man stuttered. Laughing, Luke put a bagful of credits in the man's hand and walked away. He had acquired a lot of money from the Republic and the Rebellion, and as he had never been a great lover of material possessions, he had rarely spent it on anything. Now was as good a time as any to spend some of it on a good cause!

His feet led him down a path that was unfamiliar and yet familiar at the same time. Soon, he found himself in front of a door, and he rang the door chime without hesitation.

A young Anakin answered the door, and Luke smiled. "Are your parents home?"

Wide-eyed, Anakin nodded and let Luke in. He wasn't sure what to think of his bright-eyed, grinning uncle.

Luke followed Anakin into the living room, on the verge of skipping as he did so.

"Who was at the—" Han cut off when he saw his brother-in-law.

"A Merry Christmas to you all!" Luke smiled. "Sorry to have been such a pain, Han, but you'll have to admit that you've had your moments, too!"

Han merely stared at him in bewilderment.

"Luke?!" If Leia's mouth were open any wider, her jaw would have disconnected right then and there.

"Sorry about that," a familiar female voice stated as she came in. "Karrde called, he..." Mara Jade trailed off when she saw Luke.

"Mara?" Luke whispered, astonished.

"We didn't want her to be alone for Christmas, so we invited her to celebrate with us," Leia informed her brother after a moment's pause.

Luke stared at her for a moment, hypnotized by how beautiful she suddenly looked. Then he regained his composure. "Uh, Mara, can I talk to you alone for a minute?"

She glanced at the Solos, looking for someone to provide her an excuse not to, but when no one gave her one, she followed Luke into the kitchen reluctantly.

"Mara, first off, I'm sorry," Luke began. "I know you probably don't believe me, but I've seen the error of my ways, and I know why I was the way that I was...I was hit suddenly with the realization of all of the people that I had killed. The millions of lives aboard the Death Star...I killed them, without a second thought, just by pressing a few buttons...And I just suddenly felt like the galaxy was a horrible place and there was nothing one man could do about it unless he increased his ability to use the Force. I became blinded by a lust for power, and it hid my love for you from me. I can only hope that you can find it in your heart to forgive me...and that we can continue where we left off or start all over if you wish." Pleading blue eyes met Mara's suspicious and unsure emerald eyes.

"How do I know that you've really changed?" She obviously wasn't ready to give in so easily.

"Can't you feel the goodness within me?" Luke inquired, a happy look plastered on his face that did indeed look as if it could never be removed. "I feel like I could explode with joy! I feel like going out and dancing in the streets...But then, I never was that great of a dancer..."

Mara couldn't help it. She broke out into a smile. He was so pathetically cute and joyful that she couldn't help it.

She pushed his shoulder gently. "First, you have to prove it to me."

He furrowed his brow. "I gave most of my credits to—"

"Like this," Mara said right before she covered his lips with her own.

Luke was startled at first, but he didn't need any encouragement to deepen the kiss. He slowly let his emotions burst from their mental cage, and he opened his heart to Mara.

****

Five minutes later, Luke and Mara, looking a bit disheveled, reentered the living room.

Luke had a grin as wide as the Death Star trench on his face. "Anyone wanna play a game of Spin the Bottle?"

"Only if I get to go first!" Han chuckled.

Leia ribbed him, "I don't know if I'd approve of your kissing another woman!"

"Who said anything about a woman? I thought Jaina looked like she could use a good kiss!" Han returned.

Nothing else was said that day in the Solo's home about Luke's sudden transformation. But then, nothing _had_ to be. Somehow everyone understood that talking about it more would spoil the magic.

And they didn't want to do that.

****

The next day, Luke was waiting for Kam early in the morning. The time passed by slowly, and eighteen and a half minutes past the time he was supposed to arrive, Kam rushed in.

"What do you mean by coming here this time of day?" Luke tried to growl in a voice close to his former one, although it was a little overdramatized. But Kam didn't know that.

"I'm very sorry. I am late," Kam admitted.

"You are?" repeated Luke. "Why yes, I suppose you are. Come over here, please."

"It's only once a year, Master Skywalker. It won't happen again...I'll train really hard today!"

"Now, I tell you what. I am not going to stand this any longer. And therefore," Luke leapt from his stool, looking vicious, "—I am going to let you have the whole day off! And you can set your own training time from now on!" Luke broke into a smile. "Merry Christmas, Kam! I shall try to help heal your son in any way I can, for the child is sweet and deserves to live!"

Kam merely stared at him in surprise, his mouth gaping open like a fish's.

And Luke was better than his word. He did it all, and infinitely more...And to Little Lucas, who did _not _die, he was like a second father. He became as good of a friend and a hero as the galaxy had ever seen...And as for Luke and Mara, well, marriage was their destiny, and they would not avoid it even if they could...

And so, as Little Lucas said:

Gods bless us, every one!

****

"_Hold it_!" Vader shouted.

"What is it this time?" Padmé sighed.

"Someone help me get this blasted armor off! I don't know how in the galaxy I managed to live in this thing for years if I can't even stand wearing it when I'm dead! I can't believe you made me wear this!"

Sighing, Padmé helped him remove his armor.

"Take it off, Vadey! Take it all off!" Palpatine chuckled. He was no longer in a black robe; he was instead clad in a Hawaiian shirt and jean shorts (a very scary sight). "...Wearing that nasty old robe wasn't very fun for me either. Honestly, you need to knock some intelligence into that son of yours, Anakin. I was about to smack him aside the head...And I am too evil!"

"A good narrator, were you, Padmé," Yoda commented. He was clothed in something very similar to the deceased Emperor's new attire.

"Thanks, Yoda," Padmé grunted as she helped her husband get his boots off.

Finally, all had donned their Hawaiian outfits.

"I thought that went rather well," Anakin stated.

"It did," his wife agreed.

"Mmhmm," Yoda nodded.

"I thought it—" Palpatine was cut off when a boot was thrown at his head. Obviously, no one wanted to hear his opinion. "Idiots. All of you."

"Can I take a try at this narrating business?" Anakin turned his blue eyes on Padmé.

"All right," she sighed.

Anakin grinned.

****

And so, if one decides to turn one's life around, even if he does require the help of a short green guy, a wrinkly old man, and an armored, handsome, sweet, kind, wonderful—

****

"_Anakin_!"

****

—spirit, the lives of others can be changed. Had Luke not turned, many a life would have been miserable. Many more would have died when the Empire reared its decidedly handsome head—

****

"Ani," Padmé snarled warningly.

****

—although it might not have been too handsome at times, and though it killed people needlessly and stupidly—

****

"I resent that," Palpatine muttered. Another boot came flying at his head.

****

—the point is that...Uh the point is...

****

"Ugh," Padmé sighed.

****

—what goes around comes around...._No_! Umm...If your life takes a turn for the worst, and you turn the joystick back to the best, then everyone will be in harmony, with the exception of those that were still turning toward the worst...or going toward the worst...or thinking about going—

****

"_Ahem_!"

****

—well, if you turn it back, then all shall turn out fine and you'll live happily ever after. How's that?

****

"..."

****

What are those dots supposed to mean? It almost looks like a little person.

****

"Anakin."

****

Yes?

****

"Shut up and kiss me."

****

I can do that.

****

"Please spare us all," Palpatine begged, looking disgusted.

****

How wude.

****

"Jar Jar! Away, get you, from the spot of the narrator!" Yoda ordered.

****

Nosa.

****

"Yes."

****

Mesa tinkin' no.

****

"Think not. Don't or...don't. Dangerous for you, thinking is."

****

Whaten dat 'posed ta mean?

****

"Jar Jar," Padmé dragged out.

"Can I tie him up by his ears?" Palpatine looked hopeful.

"No!" Padmé and Anakin said simultaneously.

****

Dis is de end, it tis. Bye bye. Mesa hopen yousa enjoyed it.

****

"But I wanted to have the last words," Anakin whined.

Padmé patted her husband, grinning. "Maybe next time."

****

Til next time, yousa take care of yousa self. Okeyday?


End file.
